


reflect

by ewagan



Series: SASO 2017 Fills [7]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Ghosts, M/M, Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 08:15:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11157876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ewagan/pseuds/ewagan
Summary: There’s an old music room in the school, with stories of the piano playing itself at night, particularly when the moon is full. They say that there is a ghost, as all these stories go.Akashi hears about a ghost story.





	reflect

**Author's Note:**

> [Prompt here](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/21931.html?thread=11306667#cmt11306667)

There’s an old music room in the school, with stories of the piano playing itself at night, particularly when the moon is full. They say that there is a ghost, as all these stories go. 

It’s how he meets Midorima, on a night he wanders out to the music room. He’s simply curious, and he can’t remember the last time he’s heard someone play Debussy. Akashi watches him for a minute, or maybe more.  _ So it’s you _ . Midorima finishes the piece he’s playing before he turns to look at Akashi. He’s solid, not at all like a ghost.

_ Are you a ghost? _ The question begs to be asked, and Akashi lets his curiosity get the better of him.  _ No, I’m not. _ They stare at each other for a minute. Midorima adjusts his glasses primly, then starts on a sonata by Schubert.

When he leaves, Midorima is still playing. The sound of it is muted when he closes the door, and Akashi goes back to his room wondering if he has imagined the entire experience.

 

* * *

 

Akashi is almost certain that Midorima Shintarou is a ghost. But he is solid, real in a way Akashi cannot ascribe to many things. But in the small hours, perhaps they are both ghosts, haunting the old music room. The piano plays, sometimes Akashi, but more often Midorima.

It doesn’t feel real, the way late nights take on the hazy feeling of dreams. A part of Akashi is almost certain he is in his bed, sleeping. But he is also here, watching Midorima’s long fingers stretch over the black and white keys of the piano with a surety of someone who has spent years playing. 

It turns into a habit, wandering into the old music room when it’s late and he’s restless, listening to Midorima play. He never has any sheet music with him, and yet he plays with the long practice of someone who knows the pieces by heart, having played them over and over again. They don’t talk very much during these times, and Akashi doesn’t comment on the pieces Midorima chooses to play. Many of them are tinged with a sense of melancholy that Akashi cannot shake. It lingers, well into the next day when daylight should have banished such feelings.

_ You know, some people think that the room’s haunted by a ghost. _ Akashi tells him, sitting next to Midorima. His hands are resting on the keys, and he has an urge to play something, anything. His fingers run over an arpeggio, familiar and easy, coming to rest in a chord.

_ What is a ghost anyways? _ Midorima asks.  _ Are memories not ghosts of a sort too? _ Akashi mulls it over, while Midorima starts up another piece. It’s not a classical piece, at least not one that Akashi recognizes, something lilting and full of vague yearning. Akashi doesn’t know why he thinks it sounds incomplete, only that he does.

He leaves after that song, bidding Midorima good night as he closes the door behind him.

 

* * *

 

He brings his violin with him one night, watches as Midorima’s fingers dance over the piano’s keys in a familiar nocturne. Akashi picks up his violin and joins in, fingers moving through a vaguely remembered melody. They play one nocturne after another, until Midorima stops, his hands resting on the keys. The last note hangs in the air, yearning and incomplete.

_ Why do you stay? _ Akashi asks, but Midorima merely looks at him, head tilted a little.

_ Why does anyone?  _ For the first time, he looks tired. Or perhaps, this is the first time Akashi is realizing, caught up as he is in these late nights, his attention on Midorima’s hands and not his face.

It is strange he has never noticed it before, or perhaps he’s never wanted to before. Midorima turns away, his fingers curved over the piano and poised to play. 

It is familiar in its triadic rise and fall, and Akashi lifts his violin to join. He can’t remember learning this song, but the first note he plays is long and haunting, slowly rising. The song rises and falls in parts, but retains a sense of calm melancholy throughout. It leaves an ache in Akashi’s chest, and a sense he has forgotten something he should know.

_ Do you remember? _ Midorima asks, long after the last note has faded. Akashi shakes his head, but he can hear something like the chiming of bells and the rush of wind, something lingering on the edge of his memory. There, the sound of his mother’s laughter, except his mother has been dead for years, and yet, he can almost hear her calling his name.  _ Seijuurou, come here _ .

He bids Midorima good night and takes his leave, unable to shake the feeling he has forgotten something terribly important.

* * *

 

Inside the old music room, Midorima sighs and closes the piano. He will try again, tomorrow night and the night after, until Akashi remembers, until he’s ready to let go of Akashi as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Pieces mentioned in fic [debussy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CvFH_6DNRCY), [schubert](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lncNcNtGkJY), [mystery piece #1](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LGs_vGt0MY8), [mystery piece #2](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wl_wFFhQZ6M)
> 
> Kudos and comments appreciated, you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ewagan)


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